


Working bee life

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Gen, Introspection, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 07:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12294054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Above all, your life is one thing: mediocre. You work and live and do things - but there's always someone better, at everything you do. Sure, some are worse (off) than you, but even more are better.Working bee - A bee that is one among many, not outstanding, easily replaceable.





	Working bee life

You’re twenty-three and not enough. 

That’s the first thing you’ve learned when growing up: no matter who or how you are, you’re never enough. There are a million ways to fail and despite not hitting all of them, you’ve hit enough of them.

A million things you should do. A million things you should be. Somehow, you manage to fulfil neither.

Twenty-three. What kind of age is that even. Definitely not a child anymore – lord knows you’re supposed to grow out of that by the time you’re eighteen. So, not a child. An adult, then? But you’re not that, either.

Adult means: having your life under control, having a plan for your life. A job, a relationship. Maybe not a flat of your own, but otherwise, yeah. Maybe studying, if you can afford it.

You can afford studying, actually, but other than that? Nothing. Yeah, you have hobbies. You do things you like. Sometimes, you’re even proud of what you do.

But it’s just all so – mediocre. 

You don’t excel at anything, just above-average for a lot of things. None of what you like is something you ace. You don’t have a list of unpaid internships. No world-changing side job while you’re studying. You’re not taking initiative, you’re not excelling, your grades are not a straight A. 

It feels pointless. All of it. Why bother, because no matter what you do, even if you put all your energy into one thing, to have at least that, to at least have one thing you’re really, really good at: it doesn’t matter. There’s always someone better. Someone who’s burning brighter for the thing, who’s excelling at it. 

You fail at everything –

Or, no. Not exactly failing, and that’s the bitter thing. Real failures scrape rock bottom, praying someone will pick them out, give them a chance. A heart-swelling story only waiting to happen.

Is it even possible to fail at failing?

It even turns your dreams to ashes. Of course you have dreams, things you’d like, but they, too, start feeling pointless. 

You’d like the right body. (But it’s not happening, despite all your efforts you’ve put up so far. More than a year, and what has changed? Nothing, regarding your looks.)

You’d like a boyfriend. (But that won’t happen, you can’t even stand your own body, how are you supposed to tolerate someone else’s touch like this?)(Ridiculous notion: the kind of men you’re into will not look your way, why bother, really.)

You’d like a home. (Excluding the amount of money this will cost you – really, a home?)

You’d like a job you don’t hate. (Quite the dream, considering your studies are just average.)(Average studies will get average or bad jobs. You should’ve excelled, how else are you going to get a job that will allow you to survive?)

You want too much, sometimes, and it’s a need, deep in your belly, and you try to be patient. Sit down, work hard, do not make too much noise. Such a good girl, never complaining, always dutifully working! It’s what you’ve been raised to behave like, so you do.

(You hate it, you hate it so much, sometimes you wish you could rip it all to pieces and set it on fire. You don’t know what ‘it’ even is, but you want to.)

It should be your life, but it doesn’t feel like it. Mostly, you feel useless and greedy, at the same time. Greedy for wanting things, wanting them all for your own – because haven’t you already gotten so much? You should be happy, shouldn’t you. Grown up in a rich country, never went to bed hungry, loving family, never experienced violence nor poverty.

(Were told that your worries ‘are not that big of an deal, quit complaining’. Needs were ignored, with the order to do or think in another, different way. Just not be the way you actually are. A bargaining chip in a failing marriage. After all, ‘everyone faces these things, that’s not special’.)(‘You’re not special’ is never said, but you always hear it.)

So, there you are. Average. Oh so very average. Mediocre. 

Some successes, of course, it’s not like you’ve spent your life just breathing and eating. 

(‘Great successes!’ you’re told by others, ‘Hey, you’re really great!’, they say.)(‘Yes’, you want to say, ‘and have you seen how many more have done just this – and so much more?’)

Some successes, but they won’t be enough. There’s always someone more successful, at everything you do.   
At best, it will land you an average job, that won’t make you particularly happy, but it will pay the bills, without allowing you to dream any bigger.  
At worst, it will land you an below-average job, that won’t make you happy, but it will pay the majority of bills, without allowing you to look up from your everyday life.

So, an average life for an average person.

It’s nothing more than you deserve, is it?


End file.
